


Defrost

by trash_devil



Category: BlazBlue
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, Sibling Incest, see individual chapters for tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:52:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_devil/pseuds/trash_devil
Summary: A collection of various RagJin drabbles and one-shots. Updated irregularly.





	1. Moonsong

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes Jin can shake off Yukianesa long enough to really tell Ragna how much he loves him.
> 
> Warnings: Mild Gore because I don't trust my perception of what counts as actual gore or not

Ragna treasured the rare moments when Jin was still Jin. When Yukianesa’s icy grip weakened for a second or an hour or a day and the murderous hatred that fizzled in his little brother’s head like static cleared, leaving only the love. 

Because Jin did love him in the truest sense of the word. Perhaps not as a brother should, but then again, perhaps a love that was merely familial wouldn't have been enough to pierce through the mad bloodlust that clouded his once-bright eyes.

If he had only loved Ragna as a brother, then maybe he would have killed him already.

Not that Jin was perfect even now. He was needy and moody and childish, clinging to Ragna like a limpet to the shore.

“Hey, Jin.” He tried to pry his younger brother off of him. “Jin.”

He pulled back from Ragna’s coat to speak. “What is it, Nii-san?”

“Do… Do you think I’m a monster?”

Jin snorted and rolled his eyes. “Nii-san’s Nii-san, stupid.”

“But the Black Beast—”

“So what? As long as Nii-san is still Nii-san, he’s the good guy, isn’t he?” he said. He nuzzled into Ragna’s chest. “Everyone loves Nii-san.”

“Yeah, right.” He patted Jin on the head with a sigh.

“It’s true, imbecile,” he growled, sounding a bit more like his usual, psychotic self. “Celica, Rachel, Makoto, Noel, everyone likes you. After all, you’re strong and kind and…”

“Whoa, whoa, you look like you’re gonna explode with jealousy.”

Jin’s grip on the fabric of his coat tightened. “I just… I love you, Nii-san,” he mumbled, averting his eyes.

“Even if you have to kill me? Even if I’m just a ticking timebomb counting down to when it takes over?” he snapped, the words pent up inside him finally breaking free.

He laughed, an icy sound that made Ragna shiver with instinctive dread, with the knowledge that his brother was freezing over again, that what warmth was left in him would not last long. “Yes, even then. I will always love you.”

Emboldened by the slow slide back down to insanity, he finally released his grip on Ragna. Ragna held his breath.

Jin took a step back, his body dipping in an elaborate bow. “Nii-san~” he purred.

Ragna watched him warily. He could make Yukianesa appear in an instant, and Ragna wasn’t ready to die yet. “What is it, Jin?”

“You believe me, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You don’t believe it when they say it, but you do when I tell you that I love you, right?” he said. He offered his hand out to Ragna as if asking for a dance.

Not that either of them actually knew how.

“Dream on, dumbass,” Ragna replied, but he still placed his hand on top of Jin’s. Jin smiled, brought his hand to his lips and kissed his fingertips one by one. 

“Nii-san is very stupid sometimes,” he said calmly, his cold fingers drawing intricate designs of frost along his brother’s clothing. “Sometimes I think he might want to drop the moon on me.”

“Maybe I will.”

The movement of his hands and the patterns themselves were hypnotic. “Mm. Who was it again? The one who said that the best way to say ‘I love you’ is to say that the moon is beautiful? That seems needlessly cryptic to me.” He looked up at Ragna through his eyelashes. “Though maybe Nii-san needs to be told it like that, because he doesn’t seem to listen when I just say it.”

Ragna let himself be entranced by Jin’s artistry, by the whorls of frost as delicate as a spider’s web. “It wouldn’t mean much from you, since you hate the moon so much.”

“Or would it be the opposite? If even I think the moon is beautiful, shouldn’t that mean something to you?” He stood on tiptoe to kiss him gently along the line of his jaw, his lips fluttering like butterfly wings as he spoke. “If you can make me think the moon is beautiful, then doesn’t that mean I must really love you?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“How about I say it in a different way? That I love your eyes and your face and your mouth and your voice, that I love you when you’re sad and when you’re angry and when you’re happy and you smile it makes my heart melt? That even if the rest of the world abandons you, I will not?”

He had his hands on Ragna’s shoulders. Without realizing it, his own hands had moved to Jin’s waist. “... I don’t know how to believe you,” he said quietly.

“That’s okay, too. I’ll say it until you do.”

“When you have that damn sword, you say that you hate me.”

“Then I guess I better make up for lost time.” He kissed Ragna on the lips.

Cold, so cold. In a moment of panic, Ragna thought they were freezing together. Jin’s fingers curled in his hair, five points of ice. When he pulled back, his breath was like the exhalation of a blast freezer.

“J-Jin!” he stammered through chattering teeth.

Jin frowned. He pulled off his gloves to reveal fingers frostbit from his own ice. He brought them up to his mouth, hesitating only a moment before sinking his teeth into the skin and releasing a hot gush of blood. He inhaled sharply at the pain as it splashed onto his face. His bluish lips, warmed by his own blood, turned to a healthier pink color, and, not even taking a time to wipe away the metallic tang, he kissed his brother again.

This time, it was warm.


	2. Ragna the Cat Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post Ragna's death
> 
> I really like cats, there's no other excuse for this

Sometimes Ragna sits on his desk. Not his brother, of course; that Ragna is long gone. Ragna, the one-eyed white cat that the rest of the NOL has come to regard as just another one of Major Kisaragi’s many eccentricities. It licks its black right paw and regards him with its glimmering green eye as he sits. Deep down, he knows he should give it a different name, that he is trying too hard to cling to what is already lost, but as Ragna meows at him gruffly he knows that there is no other name he can give it. He peels the fish off of his sushi and offers it to the cat, who licks it off his fingers with its rough pink tongue.

Sometimes, his old companions will come by to see Ragna. I can’t tell if you own the cat or the cat owns you, they say and laugh, but their smiles never quite hide the worry in their eyes. Jin shrugs. You can never really own a cat, he replies, even though he knows he’s not answering the question they’re asking beneath that innocent-sounding statement.   
At the same time, his lack of an answer is answer enough. Ragna’s memory owns him as surely as his brother had owned him in life. He does not have anything else, never has had anything else. 

Your obsession has consumed you, Rachel says when she materializes in his office. There is nothing left of you that isn’t him.   
A year ago, it could have been a warning. Now it is just fact. Jin doesn’t argue; he knows she’s right. He pets Ragna, feels a purr rumble through its body.  
Such a shame that he was the one who had to die, she continues, it would have been so much easier if it was you.  
I know, Jin says. I know. He smiles, but it means nothing. Now, are you here to taunt me, or did you come to say hello? he adds in teasing tones, tilting his head toward the cat.  
Rachel crosses her arms and huffs out something that he doesn’t bother to hear. Ragna greets her with a meow, and soon it is purring in her arms.

Jin needs Ragna as much as he needs food and rest and oxygen. The cat in his office is just a cat, but it makes him feel as if he still holds some part of his brother’s soul. It gets him up in the morning.  
And, really, there’s no such thing as a dumb reason to live.


	3. Frostkiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some fluffy stuff

Most mornings, Jin would already be gone by the time Ragna awoke, off to deal with the mountains of paperwork that came along with his rank as Major. 

However, even if he wasn’t necessarily present, Jin didn’t use it as an excuse to be remiss in his affections. 

Sometimes, Ragna would find a hastily scrawled note on the table or taped to the fridge, the words on it as simple as “I love you” or as complex as a poem in iambic pentameter. 

Other times, the ingredients for Ragna’s favorite udon were left on the counter. 

Jin had tried to make it himself once, but his ice-cold hands refroze things as quickly as they cooked, and combined with his inability to taste-test the meat dish, it led to something only dubiously edible. Since then, the food he left for Ragna consisted of store-bought meals or the one dish he was actually capable of making: ice cream. 

Regardless of what larger gesture Jin left in the morning, Ragna would always find hearts drawn in frost on the windows and mirrors and the smooth surface of the table. 

Ragna pressed his finger to one of the marks, its melting the same sensation as Jin’s cold lips against his skin.

Frostbite, frostnip, frostkiss.


	4. Hanahaki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild gore and all the other things that go with hanahaki

Jin exhales slowly. He doesn’t try to stop it, not right here, not right now. The little white petals flurry through his fingers like the fogging of breath on a cold day.

It is far too late to halt the whispers here. _Major Kisaragi is sick_ , they say, though whether they refer to his body or brain, he's not sure. It doesn’t much matter. Either way, they’re not wrong. His hand curls tighter around Yukianesa for comfort he knows she will not give; he can feel her displeasure. It’s a nagging deep in his soul, a pushing prying urge of _yes yes no no kill kill yes no_ that he has long stopped trying to understand. His place in this cosmic play is not to understand.

Jin’s place is to kill, to love and to hate, to give in to the madness and retch up bloody, broken flowers.

But not yet. Not quite yet. He can live, for now, fend off the things inside of him, Yukianesa’s icy grip and the Power of Order’s implacable will. He can hold them at bay, just as he holds the flowers back in his throat.

Later they will spill, just as the flowers do.

As if to emphasize his point, he feels them rising in his throat. And then he can’t breathe, and then he’s coughing hacking spitting. A fat, ugly, tattered rose spills from his lips, thorns and all. His gloves come away red as he wipes his mouth, and he casts a glare at those who have stopped to stare at him.

He doesn’t want their pity. He doesn’t want their eyes watching him, questioning _who._

He doesn’t need to listen hard to hear them. _Ragna, Tsubaki, Noel? Ragna? Ragna? Ragna?,_ each repetition of his brother’s name choking him bit by bit.

He turns, his boots ringing out against the tiles as he walks away, smothering another cough in his hand.

\---

“Hey, Jinjin! I was wondering when you’d show up!”

“This better be important, Kagura,” he replies with venom.

“Oh, it is, it is, I promise!” he says, but Hibiki is rolling his eyes behind him, and Jin grits his teeth against the urge to scream.

He doesn’t have time for this. Not now. Not ever.

“Ah, you brought the Major,” Kokonoe says as she appears in the doorway. Her eyes are calculating, observant. She doesn’t miss the blood dried on his gloves and lips or the restless twitching of his mouth. She licks her lollipop. “Rest of ‘em, too?” she asks.

Noel bursts into the room the moment she finishes the question, and Kokonoe sighs.

“There she is.”

“S-Sorry! I got lost! I-I’m not used to going around this place without Ragna-”

If she has anything else to say, Jin doesn’t hear it. He just barely registers her eyes going wide as he doubles over, coughing up thick, waxy petals.

It’s so much worse in her voice.

Another rose. He knows it; its thorns are digging into his lungs as it is forced up, up, tearing his windpipe as it goes. The thorns pierce the skin of his cheeks, little green spikes sticking up from his flesh, tipped in blood. He spits. Red blood and black petals and _of course it is,_ those are _his_ colors.

“M-Major!” Noel cries, and he can feel the panic in her voice, the bustle around him.

He tilts his head up to see Kokonoe, watching him. She does not move. She knows there is no point. This is not something she can cure.

Jin laughs, maybe. It’s hard to tell.

There’s more flowers, still. They grow and multiply. They clog his throat and fill his lungs and everything tastes like blood. He claws at them, trying to pull out the blockage, but they don’t stop.

They have never stopped.


	5. Night Terrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday, Jin
> 
> I meant to write something longer, but this was the only thing I finished on time heh;;

He was frozen in place.

That _thing,_ all teeth and shadow and malice, loomed over the foot of his bed, but he was helpless to fend it off. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t even blink. His heart pounded itself against his ribcage like it was trying to break free, and his lungs refused to take in air. Panic surged uselessly though his unmoving body.

A cold pressure wrapped around his hand.

“Breathe, Nii-san.”

I can’t, he tried to say, but his body would not obey.

“Breathe.”

The thing grinned. 

Jin counted against his ear, “One… two… three…”

Ragna wondered if he was dying.

“Ten… eleven… twelve…”

The bowling-ball weight on his chest lifted, just a little. His lungs filled. He blinked.

The thing grew fuzzy around the edges. Its grin twisted into a grimace, as if it knew it was fading.

“Twenty… twenty-one…”

He squeezed Jin’s hand back.

Jin’s mouth moved - it wasn’t a smile, Ragna wasn’t sure he even knew how to smile, but his lips were quirked into something that came close. 

“See, Nii-san? It’s alright,” he murmured as he ran his thumb over the back of Ragna’s hand. The repetitive motion was reassuring to them both.

“Jin,” Ragna croaked.

“Mm?”

“... Thank you.”

Jin nodded, “Of course.” He let go of Ragna’s hand, even though he didn’t want to. 

Ragna noticed the way his expression slipped back into neutrality and reached for his hand again. “Don’t worry, punk. It’s fine.”

That almost-smile returned. He pressed his cold lips to Ragna’s forehead and fought back the urge to just collapse onto him, to cling to him and never let go. “I love you,” he said softly.

It was almost too much. Too much for Ragna to hear, too much for him to believe in.

“Why?” he asked.

Jin made a noise in the back of his throat; maybe a laugh, maybe a sigh. “Because I do. Because I can. Because I want to.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

Jin rolled his eyes. “Stupid. It means everything, Nii-san,” he insisted as he settled himself back down at Ragna’s side. “You’re everything to me.”

“... Dumbass,” Ragna sighed. He turned his head to bury his face in Jin’s hair. “... I love you too,” he whispered into his blond locks.


End file.
